


today would be the day

by merines



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, also if you're here for that jercy fic don't judge me i swear i'll finish the next chapter i'm sorry, sorry i'm still laughing hysterically over liamgate i'll stop eventually, w/e liam thinks i'm a bastard he doesn't get screen time, zayn and liam are very briefly in this but not enough to get tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-09 02:41:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merines/pseuds/merines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes life hits you with things unexpectedly. Or you unexpectedly hit bikes. Louis isn't exactly sure how that saying goes, but he thinks it should be the bike one.</p><p>An AU where Louis shouldn't be allowed behind a wheel and Harry is just along for the ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	today would be the day

**Author's Note:**

> so i was in the middle of writing the next chapter of a fic when i suddenly thought, "misty and ash should have totally gotten together on pokemon." and that somehow?? turned into this?? i don't know. like always, i don't have a beta so forgive any horribleness you may come across.
> 
> the title comes from misty's song of the pokemon soundtrack because why the fuck not.

In Louis' defense, the bike came out of fucking nowhere.

Okay, so, technically it had to come from  _somewhere_. Bikes don't just magically spring into existence like some sort of rideable leprechaun. That is, of course, assuming that's how leprechauns are born. He would have to ask Niall that, although the last time he openly mocked Irish stereotypes Louis ended up with a pint down his pants. So maybe he won't ask Niall. That's not even what's important right now anyway. What matters is the fact that this bike, this beautifully mangled bike, just suddenly appeared behind Louis' jeep while he was backing out of the parking lot. Now all he has to do is prove to everyone that this two wheeled vehicle is the next Houdini, and everything will be totally okay.

Who even rides bikes? What's even the point in them? Why couldn't its owner drive or take a cab or, like, hitchhike? Louis has never trusted bikes ever since he fell off one at the age of eight and knocked two teeth out at once. There are more bike related deaths than planes. He thinks. He might have to Google that. He'll ask Niall to Google that. When he's done freaking out over the fact that he totally just ran over someone's bicycle. He hasn't even checked for damages on his own car; it's like if he steps closer to the crime scene it might make him even guiltier. Maybe he could just start to whistle and casually walk away? Are there any witnesses?

He looks around. There are two small children sitting on the sidewalk. He can probably bribe them with candy to keep their mouths shut. Perhaps he can buy them a Game Boy game or something. They probably don't even make games for that anymore, which means it'll be either really cheap or really expensive. He'll stick with the candy.

Before he can put this plan into fruition, however, a scream pierces through the air. It’s actually less of a scream and more of someone cursing so brilliantly that the kids nearby gasp. Louis would be impressed if it weren’t for the fact that the person is probably the owner of the bike. That, or some sort of bike enthusiast. He hopes it’s the latter.

“My bike!” the guy yells. So it’s not the latter.

Louis calculates his chances of escaping. He could try running, but he ate a pretty big breakfast and he doubts he could last more than a block. Also he can’t leave his car behind since that kind of gives away his identity.  _Also_  the bike is still caught on his back tires, so just driving away is out. In short, Louis is most definitely stuck to face the consequences that he does not think he actually deserves. Deny, deny, deny.

“It’s a nice color,” he says conversationally. “Bright and yellow. Hard to miss it.”

The guy stares at Louis in disbelief. “And yet you somehow did.”

“Technically, I didn’t? As you can see.”

He snorts, running a hand through his thick hair. Louis thinks that at one point the bike owner’s hair must have been really curly, although now it’s just wavy and kind of greasy looking. That’s a shame, he’s a bit of a sucker for curls. Ah, again, that’s not the point.

“You don’t have to sound so pleased of yourself,” the guy lets out a quiet laugh. “Shit, I step away for a minute and...”

“You shouldn’t have left it behind my car!”

“It was on the sidewalk.”

Okay, so, maybe Louis did drive over the curb a little. He chooses to ignore that fact. These things happen when you live your life on the edge. “The sidewalk that was behind my car.”

He actually pouts, and it’s a little disarming. His lips are big and his eyes are bright and all his features are a little—extreme. That’s not a good word for it. Like, God, or whatever it is that puts people together, put some extra work into bike bloke to make his features stand out a little more. Perhaps he is actually a leprechaun. Maybe they are not tiny Irishmen, and are actually long limbed pretty boys who pedal around from pot of gold to pot of gold. This is another thing he will have to discuss with Niall. He should be taking notes on this.

But that will have to wait until later, because the taller boy is now tugging helplessly at the handlebars of his bike to get it loose. All it accomplishes is making one of the bars fall straight off and thud against the ground. Louis regrets not running away when he had the chance. He can probably still try, but his opponent has longer legs than he does. His jeans are extremely tight, though, which probably cuts circulations. Wait. Who the hell bike rides in jeans so tight they might as well be part of his skin? He probably shouldn’t be staring so hard at his legs. Louis looks up and is startled to find green eyes watching him very intently. This is probably the point where he breaks Louis’ jaw in a hysterical fit of rage then sues him for damages. That’s how these things work, right? At least, according to Niall. Louis might need more friends besides Niall.

“I’m Harry,” he says instead of breaking Louis’ jaw in a hysterical fit of rage. “Harry Styles.”

“Uh,” Louis answers back.

“I somehow doubt that’s your name?”

“My mother was a unique hippie,” he shrugs. And sighs. “I’m Louis Tomlinson, and have I mentioned that I’m sorry for running over your bike?”

“You haven’t mentioned that, no,” Harry says, but he’s smirking now. “It’s okay. I forgive you.”

What. “What?”

Harry actually giggles. “You’re forgiven. On one condition, anyway.”

Oh, God, here it comes. “How much do you want me to pay you?”

He actually looks taken aback, is the thing. Like he honestly can’t believe that Louis would even consider offering him money. As if the very idea that someone may pay another human being after destroying a piece of their property is inhumane. Which Louis can totally get behind. If he can get out of this without his wallet getting lighter, then today will be a success. A success as long as you ignore the running shit over thing.

“No, I don’t want your money, sir,” Harry finally says.

Louis frowns. He can’t tell if that’s an Eponine reference or if Harry just sincerely called him sir. He tucks the thought away. “What’s the condition then?”

“Well,” Harry bites his lower lip, lightly kicking the back tire of his bike. “I kind of don’t have a car, and I can’t really afford taking the tube or bus on a regular basis. The bike was all I had for transportation.”

“Please stop. You’re going to actually make me feel guilty.”

He rolls his eyes, which is a peculiar response to give after the person who just ran over your only vehicle admitted to not caring. Hm. “Dick. Anyway, so now I need a new way to get around.”

He looks expectantly at Louis. It takes Louis a couple of seconds to see where he’s going with this and his first reaction is to laugh. Laugh and tell Harry to fuck off before skipping along into the sunset. Ignoring the fact that it is ten in the morning, obviously. The sun might be setting in another part of the world. He has never been good with time zones. But, like, despite what he had just said, he does feel bad about it. Louis would be absolutely pissed if his only method of getting around was totaled. Yet this guy doesn’t even want to make him pay for it.

“So, what?” Louis scratches at his neck. “You want me to be your personal chauffeur or something?”

Harry smiles at that, big and full of dimples and it is sickeningly adorable. Louis may be a fan of dimples. He’ll have to find out. “At least until I can get a new bike. If that’s okay? Feel free to say no if you don’t want to. I don’t want to like… pressure you into it?”

Oh, Jesus Christ.

“I ran over your bike and you don’t want to pressure me into it,” Louis repeats. “I cannot believe this is a conversation that is actually happening.”

“Is that a yes?”

Louis groans. “You better not live too far from me, Styles.”

Harry practically bounces on his toes. It’s endearing, in a way, that someone can be this happy just moments after being involved in a traffic accident. There are probably less pleasant words he can use to describe it than endearing, but Louis is feeling particularly generous right now. It probably has to do with the fact that he may get out of this without getting into any real trouble. And also because Harry is cute. Louis may also have a weakness for cute boys. He may have too many weaknesses. If he were a superhero he’d be fucked.

Harry somehow manages to pull a cell phone out of those jeans and hands it over to Louis. “Here, give me your number.”

And, like, it would be so easy to give Harry a fake one. Louis has done so numerous times after meeting someone in a club or a bad date. Anyone else would give a fake one. The thought makes Louis frown again; if someone else had been in his place, Harry would have gotten royally screwed over. Thankfully, Louis is nothing but a gentleman when he’s in the mood to be. He types in his actual number and hands the phone back.

“We’re not doing any road trips,” Louis says once the taller boy pockets his cell. “This won’t be some sort of Euro trip.”

Harry’s eyes are practically twinkling as he looks Louis over. “Nah, I have a feeling this will be a lot more fun."

 

 

* * *

In hindsight, Louis should have offered to just buy him a new bike.

Harry doesn't live far from him at all. In fact, it's just a fifteen minute drive depending on the traffic and how much Louis is willing to risk a speeding ticket. And he only asks Louis to take him places when he's available; Harry never demands that he must suddenly be taken somewhere,  _right now_ , and instead schedules all rides well in advance. But all this extra driving around accumulates in gas money, and Louis reasons that it probably would have been cheaper in the long run to just stick a big red bow to a pair of new wheels and call it a day.

He likes Harry though. Except for the fact that he has a bad habit of messing with the radio. And reorganizing all of the items Louis has strewn around his car. And that he is a terrible backseat driver. And—okay. Harry Styles is a menace to have around when you’re behind the wheel. But he's nice to talk to even if half of the things that come out of his mouth don’t make much sense. His stories are literally the Worst, capital W, and Louis is pretty sure that he forgets what he's even talking about halfway through them. He finds it kind of sweet, though, and all of his sarcastic remarks lose more and more of their bite as time goes on. He will never admit any of this, of course, because he has a reputation he needs to keep.

“Reputation?” Niall scoffs. “Who do you have a reputation with? I’m the only person you talk to.”

“Well obviously everyone else has heard my reputation and decided to stay away from me,” Louis argues, tossing a chicken leg at the blond. Niall shrugs and eats it, and Louis regrets using it as ammo at once. He’s starving.

“Also,” Niall says while chewing, “you know that telling me counts as admitting to it, right?”

“You don’t count.”

They’re sitting in Niall’s living room with a bowl full of wings and a box of pizza spread between them. Louis is supposed to pick Harry up from work in twenty minutes and he has been trying to convince Niall that the guy isn’t actually some sort of serial killer. It’s been mostly backfiring so far.

“Think about it,” Niall grabs a slice of pizza and turns to look Louis in the eyes. “What if he put the bike there on purpose? Maybe he has been following you, knew that you were a shit driver, and created this elaborate scheme to gain your trust so he can skin you?”

“Wouldn’t he have killed me by now?” Louis says in between chews. “It’s been two weeks. And that’s a lot of work just to off one guy.”

“Serial killers are crazy! That’s why they’re serial killers. I saw a documentary on them once, and fuck, man. They do all this unnecessary shit to kill someone. It’s so fucked up.”

“He seems a little… uncoordinated to really kill someone, to be honest.”

The first time Harry had stepped into his jeep, he smacked his forehead against the door and fell to the ground. It was quite comical once Louis made sure that he wasn’t terribly injured. It would have been a shame if there was any permanent damage to such a nice face.

Niall just shrugs. “All I’m saying is that it’s a possibility. If he ever brings a chainsaw along, you should run.”

“I will take your advice to heart,” Louis grins. A quick look at the clock tells him that it’s time to head out. He grabs another piece of chicken for the road, smacks a wet and greasy kiss to Niall’s forehead, and leaves the flat. Niall lives a bit further away from the bakery that Harry works at than he does so if he drives a little faster than usual, well. It’s totally not his fault.

He still thinks it’s not his fault when he pulls in at the bakery with a speeding ticket in tow. Harry’s smile drops when he slides into the passenger seat, instantly replaced with worry. That’s another peculiar thing about him; he seems so genuinely concerned about Louis. Are people normally this interested in the lives of their personal drivers?

Louis just hands him the ticket without saying a word. A cocktail of emotions appear on Harry’s face, although they are all mostly just various forms of panic. Harry is probably one of those guys who become deeply troubled when he hears bad news about people he doesn’t know. He’s just that kind of annoying person.

“This is so much money,” Harry mutters, his fingers bending the edges of the ticket. Louis snatches it back before he accidentally rips it; that’s the last thing he needs.

“Yes it is,” Louis says. “How was I supposed to know that the law takes this whole speed limit business seriously?”

Harry gulps. “It’s my fault. If you didn’t have to pick me up—“

“You are correct. But I also ran over your bike, so we’re about even now.”

He looks like he’s about to argue, his pink lips all pouty and his eyes determined. Louis starts the jeep and pulls out of the parking lot, heading back to Harry’s place. He doesn’t get too far before there’s a hand on his shoulder.

“Actually,” Harry starts, “do you want to get a bite to eat or something? I didn’t get a lunch break today.”

Louis would have thrown a fit if he didn’t get his break, but he’s almost certain that Harry voluntarily went without it. Stupid hippie. “I just ate with Niall.”

“Oh,” Harry removes his hand. “Are you and Niall dating?”

Louis almost crashes into a McDonald’s. “Are me and— _what?_ ”

“You just talk about him a lot,” Harry squeaks, still shocked by the near accident, his hands covering his face as if that’ll protect him. Once he seems to realize they are not currently connected to the wall of a restaurant, he lowers his arms. “All the time. And you never mention anyone else, so I just assumed…”

“No way,” Louis scoffs. “He practically idolizes me, and I’m pretty sure if we dated that pedestal would come crumbling down. I must never let that happen”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And you are going to give me more traffic violations.”

Harry smiles sheepishly. “Can I grab some food since we’re already here?”

Louis rolls his eyes as dramatically as he can and mutters dangerously under his breath, but he still pulls into a parking space. They both walk in together and Louis wonders why he didn’t just go through the drive thru. It would have been much faster, honestly, but he admittedly likes watching Harry walk. He’s all pigeon toed and gangly limbs and tight pants—it’s like sexualizing a giraffe. Louis decides to never voice that thought. People may start rumors regarding him and animals.

Harry orders, to the surprise of no one, a salad and tea. He _would_ be that guy who goes to McDonald’s and gets healthy food. It’s not even that good for you anyway since they add a bunch of shit to it. Louis almost says as much, but he manages to keep his mouth shut instead. Which is surprising. He’s already on edge from the ticket; despite how nonchalant he had acted to Harry, that _is_ a large sum of money he does not have at the moment. He may have to skip paying a phone bill. His first thought after that shouldn’t be wondering how Harry will contact him if his service is turned off.

They sit down at a table in the corner, a bit further away from the families and everyone else. Louis steals food from Harry even though he told him he wasn’t hungry. He thinks he has earned that right. Harry is going on about some funny thing his friend Nick has done recently, but Louis has already decided that he doesn’t like Nick so he’s not really listening. He’s not jealous or anything, he just doesn’t like it when people he likes are fascinated by someone who isn’t him.

That might be the definition of jealousy. Possibly.

The point is that Harry is going on about some hot tub mishap that he had with a bunch of older men—that may be his type from what it sounds like—and Louis could not care any less. If he did, it would be in the negative cares. So negative it would loop back into him caring.

It’s not that he has a crush on Harry. Well, he might have a bit of a crush, but that may be everyone’s reaction to Harry. He just has an extremely charming personality that sits on the borderline of intriguing and just plain weird. Who wouldn’t be into that? But if a conversation doesn’t hold his attention, Louis has a tendency of getting snappy. And Harry going on about how fantastic other guys that Louis does not care about is not holding his attention.

“Do you want to fuck Nick or something?” Louis interrupts him midsentence. “It sounds like you want the D.”

Harry sputters, his cheeks reddening at an astonishing speed. “No—it’s—that’s not it.”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed about it,” Louis shrugs. He then realizes that maybe Harry isn’t as comfortable with his sexuality as Louis is. They’ve briefly discussed it before and he hadn’t gotten the impression that it made Harry nervous, but this was always a tricky subject. “Sorry.”

Harry shakes his head. “No, it’s okay. Grimmy and I aren’t like that anymore.”

So they were like that at some point in time. Interesting. “Good to know.”

Harry gives him a look that’s a mix of amusement and curiosity. “Why is that good to know?”

“I can now be assured that I won’t be picking you up from his place after an erotic night out.”

Harry breaks out into a laugh so hard that they get ugly looks from around the restaurant. “I will try to keep those to a minimum.”

He gives Harry a good look over. His shirt is stained with what is hopefully jelly and there’s some dough caught in his hair. The mentioned hair is also tied back in a ponytail and, God, that should not be attractive. That should be the opposite of attractive. Louis firmly decides he is not attracted to that. He is so attracted to that. He licks his lips, debating if he should go for it.

Louis takes a deep breath and leans in. “Are you a serial killer?”

“What?” Harry chokes on his leafy food. “Am I a what?”

“You know,” he lowers his voice, “a killer that kills serially? You don’t pick up blokes by having them run over your bike? Is the reason you never invited me up is because your entire flat is actually a workshop for bicycles? Is that what this is all about?”

“Lou,” Harry tries to look offended, but he’s having trouble fighting off the smile that’s forming on his face. “I promise you that I am not a serial killer.”

“That’s what a serial killer would say.”

“You are hopeless.”

They both erupt into a fit of giggles, earning them even more annoyed glances from the other customers. Louis isn’t sure when fun was suddenly not allowed indoors, but apparently there has been a recent ban of it that he was not aware of. He may have to write a firm letter to complain.

“Shall we get going?” Harry asks, gathering all his trash. He spares a glance across the room. “I think we’re bothering them.”

“Let them be bothered,” Louis replies, although he does stand up. He’s suddenly aware of just how much time he spent with Harry outside of a vehicle. He would honestly love to hang out with Harry on normal terms; the thought of expanding his circle of friends from one to two is something he has been seriously considering the last few days. But if they become actual friends, would that negate the whole paying Harry back for the bike thing? He doesn’t want to give the impression that he’s squeezing his way into Harry’s life just to get out of the debt.

And he’s not sure if he wants to be the first person to break the rhythm they have going now. It may be cowardly to wait for Harry to make the first move, but Louis is completely okay with that.

The ride to Harry’s flat lacks any near death experiences, which is a pretty nice change. That also means it ends rather quickly, though, and Louis is surprised at how disappointed he is at that. He looks through the window at the building Harry calls home, trying to figure out which of the windows belongs to him. Almost all of them are curtained, and from this distance he can’t tell if any of the designs on them is really pretentious. He’s startled out of his creepy spying with the sound of Harry unhooking his seatbelt.

“Thanks for the ride,” he says. It’s what he always says, when it’s time to go and the conversation turns awkward and stunted. It’s always this moment when they both fully realize that this is a relationship based off of repayment and not genuine friendship. “See you later?”

“Always,” Louis nods his head, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. Niall’s waiting for him back at his; they had plans to play football in the park that afternoon. He’s not in any hurry to leave.

 Harry simply stares at him, the smallest hint of a smile at his lips, and he just looks so perfectly lovely that Louis wants to tell him to get back into the jeep and drive away with him. But Harry backs away, turns his back to Louis, and heads to the entrance of the building. Louis watches until he’s certain that the younger boy isn’t going to run into an actual serial killer and drives away.

 

 

* * *

He gets the call at two in the morning and he almost ignores it. He normally ignores anything that occurs after he already decided to sleep, but whoever is calling is insistent. It rings and rings and rings to the point that Louis answers just to yell at them. He holds his tongue when he hears Harry’s soft voice on the line, low and deep and, surprisingly, slurring slightly.

“I’m sorry, Lou,” Harry breathes, and the sound makes Louis shiver. “I got—I’m—can you pick me up?”

“I thought we agreed that I wouldn’t be your chaperone for when you get laid?” Louis jokes, but he can tell it’ll fall flat before it even leaves his mouth. Harry laughs lightly anyway even though it is cut short by a moan. It’s less of a sexy moan and more of an everything-hurts-just-kill-me moan.

“I’m so sorry,” he says again. “I know it’s late. I’m the worst, I’m—“

“Harry,” Louis interrupts. He sits up and stretches, trying to work out the aches in his joints. “Just tell me where to go.”

The address is to some club. Louis has heard about it in passing, has even considered taking a look one of these nights. This isn’t how he pictured his first visit though, dressed in sweats with a beanie tugged snugly over his fringe. He walks briskly to the entrance, ignoring any curious glances that are thrown his way. Whatever. It’s not like he’s actually planning on going _inside_ dressed like this, he isn’t some sort of animal.

He spots Harry sitting on the curb with his head tuck between his knees. It pains Louis to see him like that, all curled into himself and tiny instead of the all-encompassing mass that he has gotten to know over the last few weeks. He settles down at his side and gently prods at Harry’s shoulders to get his attention.

“Babe,” Louis murmurs, “I’m here. Look up.”

He does, and his eyes are bleary and his cheeks are flushed to the point it’s almost obscene. But there’s something just _off_ about his overall appearance. He’s too twitchy and his eyes can’t seem to focus on one thing for too long. Louis’ first thought is drugs and he panics. Harry doesn’t seem like the type of guy to be into the club drug scene so his next thought is that someone might have slipped something into his drink. The idea makes bile rise in Louis’ throat. He almost wants to go in and punch every sleazy looking person in the building, but Harry needs him here right now.

“Let’s get you home,” he says, gently lifting Harry up by his arms. Louis leads him to the jeep, whispering soothing words into his ear with every step. Harry just nods his head the whole time, swaying slightly as he clings hard to Louis’ side.

Harry doesn’t speak until Louis has him buckled into the seat. “I’m so sorry about all of this. Did I wake you?”

“Nah, I was—uh,” Louis frowns. He honestly can’t think of what he might have been doing instead of sleeping at one in the morning. He’s certain there are dozens of things young people get themselves into, but nothing comes to mind when Harry looks so pathetic. “Sleeping. It’s no trouble, mate. I knew this call would come one day.”

Harry’s answering laugh is muffled, and when Louis peeks over he can see that his arm is covering his face. He _really_ wants to pry and find out what went on in that club, but he’s not sure their relationship is at a point where he can get that information. He’s not even certain if they’re simply acquaintances or actual friends. It’d be a bit embarrassing if he asked.

This time when they park, Louis gets out of the car with Harry. Harry directs them to his flat and after some careful maneuvering, Louis manages to get the door open while also holding onto the other boy. He somehow gets him to the bathroom without bumping into something and they splash some water onto Harry’s face. He looks a little better now, but Louis isn’t exactly comfortable with the idea of leaving him alone. However when Harry begins to move towards a bedroom, Louis awkwardly stalls near the doorway. Even if he doesn’t want to go yet, Harry might not want him to stick around.

Harry is all the way to his bed when he pauses. He glances over his shoulder, confusion etched onto his features. “Come in, Lou.”

Louis doesn’t know he’s been holding his breath until he lets it out. He enters the room and sits on the edge of the bed, watches as Harry clumsily removes his clothes until he’s down to his pants. Any normal person would give the boy privacy and look away, but Louis enjoys a good show and Harry doesn’t appear to be embarrassed, so why should he? He only glances away once Harry has climbed underneath the covers.

“Sit with me,” Harry says, patting the spot next to him. Louis isn’t sure how being the guy’s driver evolved into cuddle buddy, but he’s not one to complain of such events. He toes off his shoes that he had forgotten to take off at the entrance and crawls over to the indicated spot. He doesn’t go under the blankets though; he has to draw the line somewhere.

Louis shifts until he’s comfortable and then turns so he faces Harry. “Didn’t know you were such a party animal, Styles.”

Harry huffs indignantly, but the smile’s on his face is still there. “You should see me on birthdays.”

The grin drops a fraction. “No, it—sorry again. Some friends of mine introduced me to some new people and they weren’t exactly what I was… well, used to.”

Louis makes a mental note to find these so called new people and destroy them all. “See, this is why I don’t have friends. To avoid shit like this from happening.”

It’s a joke. It’s supposed to be funny. But Harry’s lips get all pouty and his eyebrows furrow, and Louis knows he did not take it as a joke at all. “I’m sorry if this comes off as rude, but I really can’t imagine how you don’t have a bunch of mates. You’re so… _Louis._ They should be fighting to be around you.”

That is one of the sweetest things anyone has ever said to him. Louis has to roll onto his back again so Harry won’t see how flushed his face just became. “It’s not rude. Nosy as fuck, yeah, but not rude.” He rubs at his eyes, wondering how to explain this as easily as possible. “I was pretty popular, actually, you’re right about that. And then I came out, and… Things were alright at first? None of them seemed to care. But then one of them started talking a lot of shit, and soon everyone thought I was sleeping around with anyone with a cock. Niall is the only one who defended me, and I cut all of them except for him out.”

“Oh,” Harry murmurs, and his face is suddenly a lot closer than it was a minute ago. “That sucks. But, um, not everyone is like that? You could meet new people, or—“

“I know,” Louis interrupts. “I’m not like, forever traumatized or anything. I just haven’t been in a rush to meet people since that happened. I go out with Niall and his other friends sometimes, but that’s about it.”

Harry’s even closer now, so near that his cheek is pressing against Louis’ shoulder. He figured that Harry would be a cuddler, which is actually great because despite popular opinion, he is too. He regrets not settling under the covers now; every part of him except that shoulder is so cold. He wonders if it’d be weird if he did it now.

Before he can decide whether or not to do it, Harry speaks again. “We’re friends though, right?”

Louis blinks. It’s the same thing he had been thinking of earlier, but he didn’t want to be the first to voice the concern. He has to give Harry credit for managing to have more balls than he does, which is saying a lot. “Yeah. We’re friends, H.”

He moves away from him and Louis momentarily panics, wondering if he said the wrong thing. But then Harry lifts the blankets up enough for Louis to squeeze in next to him. Louis thanks whatever god is the patron of whatever the hell this is, and burrows into the covers. They both fall asleep, legs entwined and breaths intermingling, until the sun rises.

 

 

* * *

Things change after that. Harry regularly calls Louis for things other than rides, and they hang out so much that Niall is beginning to get jealous. Louis thinks he’s getting jealous. Niall threw a shoe at him when he voiced this, but Louis isn’t fooled at all. He knows what’s up.

Harry invites him and Niall over to his place for a small get together. Louis knows that this is Harry’s way of trying to expand his tiny circle, and he has to force himself not to roll his eyes every time it gets mentioned. But he still shows up, Irishman in tow, and it’s not as bad as it could have been.

All of Harry’s friends are great. More than great, really, they’re the kind of people that Louis would love to know as well. He spends a lot of time talking to Zayn and Liam; they both have known Harry since they were kids, which means they have the juiciest stories to share. Niall and Harry hit it off instantly. It’s actually a bit annoying how well they get on. Louis narrows his eyes at them and excuses himself from Zayn.

He slides next to the boys, wrapping an arm around Niall’s shoulder. “Harry, did you know that this lovely fellow thought you meant to kill me?”

Harry’s eyes widen and he looks between the two uncertainly. Niall just snorts. “At least I didn’t run over his bike with my shit driving.”

“Niall peed in the bed until he was nine.”

“Louis accidentally called a girl who had a crush on him mom.”

“Niall’s a Belieber.”

“Louis—“

“Guys,” Harry laughs. “I love both of you. Knock it off.”

The two stick their tongues out at each other in defiance. They still do what Harry says anyway, and Niall runs off the moment someone mentions drinking games. Louis almost goes after him because that is not something he likes to miss, but Harry is just smiling at him in a way that tells him he should do anything but leave.

“I’m glad you came,” Harry says, the smile not dimming even for a moment.

“Louis, he knows his way around,” Louis replies, waggling his eyebrows. Harry furrows his eyebrows in confusion. Okay, so he didn’t quote Eponine when they first met. Nobody is perfect. “We were both bored. So, you know, why not?”

“I saw you speaking with Liam and Zayn earlier. They’re great. My best mates. Do you like them?”

Harry’s face is so eager while he asks, as if his very existence depends on Louis’ answer. It’s both unsettling and flattering. Louis hasn’t felt as if his opinion has really mattered for _years_ so the fact that someone is very much interested in it now is baffling. He almost forgot just how much he likes attention. Not in the showoff, diva way. But there is just a certain thrill in being around other people who actually enjoy your presence. He sort of missed it.

Just a bit.

“I like them,” Louis nudges Harry’s shoulder. “They seem like cool blokes. I think Zayn might actually be prettier than me, it was a major blow to my ego.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “You’re so vain, Lou.”

Louis is about to hit him with some sort of clever comeback, but someone familiar is suddenly walking by and anything he was about to say is pulled back. It’s hilarious, really, because he hasn’t thought about him for years but then the moment he brought him up to Harry—boom. There he is.

“Tommo?” Jack shouts, pushing his way towards the two. He has gotten taller and broader. If Louis didn’t completely hate him he would consider it attractive. “Holy shit, it is you!”

Harry’s grin brightens and, oh no, if he’s here then that means the two of them are friends. It’s actually funny in the way that something that’s completely and utterly horrible can be. What if they’re best friends? What if they’re inseparable, totally attached to the hip? Louis backs away.

“I gotta go,” he says. “Need to find Niall.”

Jack finally reaches them and stands close to Harry. Their shoulders are brushing lightly and all that does is make Louis take another step back. He keeps his expression neutral. At least, he hopes he is. He could be frantically crying right now and not even noticing. That has happened before.

“Nialler is here too? Damn, I can’t believe you’re still together. We should all catch up,” Jack turns to Harry. “I knew these guys back in school. They were a riot.”

Harry’s smile flickers for a moment. “Did you? What a small world.”

“See you two later,” Louis manages to get out before his back is to them. He hears Niall before he sees him, laughing hysterically at something a blond girl is whispering into his ear. He sobers up once he sees Louis though, and he all but runs to his side.

“What happened?” Niall hooks their arms together, leading them away from all the noise and into a quiet corner. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Something like that.” Louis rubs his temples; he can feel the beginning of a headache coming on, but he’s not sure if it’s from the alcohol or the noise or _this._ “Coming here was a bad idea. Jack’s here.”

It takes a second for Niall to recognize the name. But once the realization hits, his usual happy expression turns into something ugly. Niall should never look so angry, Louis thinks, and he wants to smooth out all the displeasure from his face. Even the most cheerful people have to break at some point, though, and Niall’s button is his friends.

“Let’s go to mine,” Niall says, his grip on Louis tightening. “I already won at beer pong.”

“What’s the point in parties when you’ve already proven your superiority to everyone?” Louis chuckles, and they both head to the exit. They run into Liam on the way out and they give the excuse that Niall isn’t feeling very well from all the alcohol so they’re calling it a night. If Liam actually knew them, he would automatically call bullshit on that. Luckily for them, he is still a beginner to the ways of Niall’s drinking habit.

They don’t speak again until they’re safely in Louis’ jeep, driving way too quickly back to Niall’s place. Louis knows he should be more careful considering he only just recently paid off that ticket from before, yet he can’t bring himself to care. He wants to put as much distance between himself and the party as possible.

“What was he doing there?” Niall finally says, tugging at his seatbelt. He can’t seem to keep his hands still.

“I guess he might be friends with Harry,” Louis answers, trying not to let the disappointment show on his face. “They seemed to know each other, at least.”

“Fuck,” Niall mutters. “I can’t believe Harry likes that twat.”

Louis isn’t sure why, but his immediate reaction is to defend his new friend. “He probably doesn’t know what he’s like. I mean, we didn’t until he was telling everyone that I’ll take it up the ass for some taxi money. And maybe he, I dunno, changed?”

Niall gives him a look.

“Yeah, no, I don’t care if he changed or not either. I just don’t think we should be mad at Harry about this. It’s not like he knew.”

Louis can’t really see Niall’s expression in the dark of the night, but he just knows that it’s out of place. Before he can say anything, the blond is suddenly leaping at him and peppering his face with kisses. Louis swerves out of his lane, cursing, because you can’t call it a day without a near accident.

Harry’s text comes late at night, when Niall is curled up at Louis’ side, asleep. Louis considers ignoring it—despite what he had said to Niall, he is a tiny bit upset that Harry invited Jack to his party. And he knows that’s stupid and irrational. Harry isn’t a psychic. How was he supposed to know about the specific details of Louis’ past drama when he never gave him them? He lasts about three minutes before opening the text.

_hey lou, i heard you weren’t feeling well?_

_yeah sorry for leaving early ! will stay longer next time x_

_oh ok cool :) So you know jack?_

Louis’ fingers freeze over the phone. He completely forgot that by leaving the party early, he gave Jack plenty of opportunity to talk about the good old times with Harry. What did he say? Louis already told Harry that all of his friends ditched him, so he must at least be under the impression that Jack is one of them. Louis isn’t quite sure if Harry would take his word over Louis’ though.

_yeah we were._

_he said that you sort of just stopped talking to everyone except niall_

There’s a big implication here and Louis does not like it. According to Jack, it seems, Louis is the one who left everyone for no real reason. He supposes it could have been worse; Jack could have said that Louis attempted to ritual sacrifice them or something. So, yeah, there’s a silver lining. Does Harry believe it?

He should be reasonable. Louis should calmly explain the situation in a way that won’t put Harry in some uncomfortable spot between two friends. He should give them both the benefit of the doubt, and together they can get past all of this. Louis is a mature adult whose first reaction isn’t to run out with his claws out.

_is that what he said_

_yeah. and that he was really hurt by it? cuz he really liked you but_

Harry is probably typing out more, but Louis doesn’t give him the chance to finish.

_yeah he liked sucking my dick. until i asked him if he wanted to date and suddenly i was some slutty homo haha ! :)_

A minute passes with no response. Then another. Louis turns off his phone and shoves it under the pillow.

 

* * *

Louis didn’t know how difficult it would be to ignore Harry until he started ignoring Harry. Which is weird, since they only started talking on a regular basis recently, but his first instinct when something happens is to tell Harry. See someone walking in some pretentious band shirt with a fedora on? Tell Harry. Spot an oddly colored bicycle parked at a curb? Tell Harry. It’s a Monday? Tell Harry.

But now he is decidedly not telling Harry, which means the only other person he can talk to is Niall. And Niall is already used to Louis and his ways, so he doesn’t find it as endearingly charming as Harry does. Niall’s default reaction to Louis is either laugh hysterically at anything that comes out of his mouth or to tell him to go away. Louis misses when it was always the former.

He half expects Harry to come busting through his flat door one of these days, except he has no idea where Louis lives. And it’s not like he hasn’t texted. He has. An annoying amount of times, actually, but Louis just automatically deletes them all without reading. Louis should put this on his resume. “Excellent at confrontations and being an evasive dick.” Now _that’s_ a skillset.

It’s been about a week since he was at Harry’s place when he gets a text from Niall. It’s vague, telling him to go to some sandwich shop that recently opened downtown. Louis wonders why he would want to go all the way down there when there are plenty of closer ones, but he has long since given up on understanding the mind of his best friend.

The first thing he notices when he gets there is the lack of Niall. The second is that the sandwich shop is nestled right next to a store selling bicycles. And the third, which really should have been the first, is Harry. He’s outside of the bikes, his button-up revealing way more skin than button-ups actually should. His hair isn’t slicked back in the way that Louis has gotten used to; it looks soft and fluffy and Louis wants to pet it.

“Louis,” Harry immediately goes over to him, his hands in his pockets and his eyes on him. “Jesus, there you are. I didn’t think you’ll come.”

He almost says that if he had known it would be Harry here instead of Niall, he wouldn’t have. It’s on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows it back. “Yeah. Here I am.”

Harry runs both his hands through his hair. He looks more stressed out than Louis has even seen him, even more than when he ran over the yellow bike. “You’ve been ignoring me.”

Louis shrugs. “I do that to friends.”

“No,” Harry replies almost immediately. “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said all of that stuff, I made it sound like I was—I don’t know, doubting you? And then Niall told me that Jack was the douche who did all that stuff to you. I was kind of suspicious when I found out you knew each other, but I didn’t want to just assume.”

“I shouldn’t have snapped like that,” Louis begrudgingly admits. “You had no idea about our history, so I shouldn’t have acted like you did, I guess. It looks like I _was_ a little traumatizes because of it.”

Harry smiles. Not enough for the infamous dimples to make an appearance, but enough to make Louis’ insides squirm. Having feelings is the worst thing that has ever happened to him.

“So we’re good?” Harry asks, leaning in towards Louis. “We’re still friends?”

“We’re still friends,” Louis agrees.

“Great,” he beams. And then immediately turns to face the bike shop, a look of utter determination set into his features. “Now let’s get me a new bike.”

“Excuse me?”

“Why else would we be meeting outside of this place? I have enough money to buy the one that I want.”

Before Louis can make any sort of protest, he’s being dragged into the cramped shop. Honestly, he can’t tell the difference between the bikes. They have two wheels and a seat and handlebars, but judging from the large range of prices taped everywhere, bikes are not created equal. He winces at it. How much did Harry’s previous one cost? He assumed that he just got some cheap thing at Walmart.

Harry stops walking at a section in the far back. The bike he has an eye on is bright yellow, just like the last one. This one has the added bonus of a basket though, which is so Harry that Louis has to force himself from groaning. But the surprising thing is the fact that there are, in fact, two seats attached to this bike. It’s for two people. That is more than one. Dos.

“Harry,” Louis says slowly. “That’s a couple bike.”

He slings an arm around Louis’ shoulder, grinning mischievously. “Yes. Yes it is.”

"You need two people to ride it."

Harry fidgets slightly, like he isn't exactly sure how to get the next words out of his mouth. And that's silly, because they already got through the difficult conversation. At least, Louis thinks they did. Maybe he was wrong again. Harry lets go of his shoulder, which is terrible, but his fingers find their way down to Louis', which isn't. He laces them together, his smile much bigger than it was before. It's a little breathtaking. "Would you like to ride a couple bike with me? You must never go away, Louis, Louis."

That is definitely a Marius quote. Harry is perfect after all.  Louis wonders if kissing someone while surrounded by wheels is considered romantic or not. Fuck it. It’s the most romantic thing in the world, as far as he’s concerned. Harry offers no objections.

“Still friends?” Louis murmur when he remembers that humans need to breathe.

“Nah,” Harry laughs. “I decided that being just friends is overrated.”

So romantic. However, when they knock over four bicycles and a scooter, the cashier does not seem to agree. Louis can live with that.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm [donnatroys](http://donnatroys.tumblr.com) on tumblr


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